


The Art of Dining Alone

by WildHaunt



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Dogs, Gore, M/M, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-01
Updated: 2015-07-01
Packaged: 2018-04-06 04:08:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4207332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildHaunt/pseuds/WildHaunt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bar AU<br/>Will works a case in Baltimore that keeps bringing him back to a little tavern in town.</p><p>as a note. NO HARM WILL EVER COME TO WILL'S DOGS.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Career Empath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> enter will. career-empath.

Blue lights flash against the fog this misty October night in Baltimore. A breeze seems to slice through the officers on scene. Radio chatter distracts for a moment. Will walks with purpose over the threshold of the home. No forced entry this could mean a number of things. The victims knew their attacker or they left the door unlocked. It wouldn’t be surprising. The house was a little out of the way from the street. Two bodies on the floor. Blood slicks the hard wood. Eyes flash behind wide rimmed glasses. A lock of brown hair threatens to obstruct his view. Haircuts are a low priority for him, too many other things to distract, explore… He thinks about his dogs for a brief moment. He thinks of them warm by the gated fire at home in Wolf Trap. Safe. 

Will stares a moment at the scene. Time stops as he tries to recreate what happened hours before. Silence. What seems like a pendulum swings in his mind, back and forth and he ventures deeper and deeper trying to see as the killer sees. Mr. Chase, a middle aged dark-haired man, walks into his home, fully expecting to be alone. He flips the switch in his kitchen illuminating the table. A man is sitting, waiting patiently, alone, in the dark. He stands a head taller than the intruder. His height is useless in this case. His face is a wash of surprise ... fear as he's quickly shoved to the floor. The intruder's foot hooks behind Mr. Chase's and he shoves - hard enough that Mr. Chase breaks his arm on impact with the kitchen's tiles. He is powerless as the man at the door pins him and quickly wraps his hands around the other's throat. Mr. Chase manages to remove the attacker from him for a moment. Will watches the images in his head, the struggle continues. A desperate scrambling. When the intruder smashes his head against the tiles. Blood pools between the crevices.  The intruder, sure that his victim is still alive, waits a moment before starting on him. He starts just below the sternum and opens Mr. Chase. Splaying him open. He splits effortlessly raw, red, and pungent. Something is removed and Mr. Chase is posed hands seeming to hold himself open, like an offering.

Will can feel himself snap back into his own body, his own mind. He trembles slightly. A lifetime of empathy and he still has trouble with certain aspects of his job. He replays the scene in his head over and over the victims last moments. A sudden chill brings him back to his own body. Sweat drips and cools quickly down the back of his neck. The hairs are standing on end. When did his heart start beating so fast? When did his breathing stop? He takes a deep breath trying to not swallow air. His lungs burn and he breathes again, slower this time. Calming. His hands shake. He realizes his shirt is wet and that he will soon have to be back out in the cold. 

Almost reflexively Will takes something for his blossoming headache and leaves the scene. Most of cops have long gone for the evening. Aside from those left to photograph and clean the scene. Will takes a deep breath and heads into town. It’s about an hour and a half drive home where his dogs are waiting for him. He checks the clock in his car and replays the night’s events one more time before starting his car. Maybe grabbing a drink in the city would be for the best. The air in the car is still cold while the heater starts to kick in. The street lights grow steadily less blinding as he starts down the road toward home. Maybe tonight he will sleep through until morning. Maybe he’ll even dream of something pleasant. 


	2. Meeting of the Minds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A stop for beer and a new friend

The bar is quiet. A cozy corner pub with brick walls and wood bar and tables. A soccer match is playing on the television in the corner. Announcements can be heard if Will listened closely. This was obviously a bar catering to patrons who enjoy a lot of solitude with their drinking. Will hangs his coat on the rack by the door and sits at an empty spot by the bar. He can see the tv in the corner of his eye, he watches the colors flash a moment before studying the taps. Lots of imported ales, stouts, a few local brews. Nothing extravagant. Will settles in and watches the game for a moment distracting himself while waiting for his drink.

“Would you mind if I took this seat next to you?” Will looks away from the television to see a tall light haired man with deep set eyes and some of the most well defined cheek bones he had ever seen in his life. Quiet and severe the strangers gaze seems to pierce straight into Will, as though he can see his every thought. Will feels the fine hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He nods. 

“Seat’s not taken.” The tall man slides onto the open bar stool next to Will. The green of his sweater accenting his pallor. His face seem to suggest an almost tangible hunger, though his face wouldn’t be described as gaunt. Cold eyes reflect Will’s tired, humorless visage. Will's eyes quickly break away from the stranger's. Forgetting his manners but not really caring if he offends this guy. The tall man extends a wide hand in a friendly gesture to Will. His hand is calloused but warm. Will wipes the condensation of his glass off on his shirt and grips it firmly. A courteous but obviously strained gesture. Please, just let me finish my drink in peace, Will is ready to just pay his tab and walk out. 

There is a hint of an accent as the stranger introduces himself.  
“Hannibal. And you are?”   
“Will. Will Graham. If you don’t mind I’d like to drink in peace.”   
“I apologize. I didn’t mean to intrude. I’ve never seen you in my bar before. I take a certain pride in knowing my patrons.”   
“Sorry to be rude,” Will takes a long sip of his beer. It’s deep red in the glass. Lacing slightly around the edges. “I’m really just here on my way back home. And I don't care so much for conversation,” An edge of annoyance seems to have a hold on Will’s voice. He quietly considers the sports on the screen and the beer selections.

Will finishes his drink and starts fishing out his wallet, “Well, Hannibal, it’s been nice meeting you, but I really have to be going,” he pulls out enough to pay for his drink and tip the bartender. Hannibal quietly takes a moment to size up Will who is busy putting his wallet back in his pocket. Hannibal is aware of who he is. Will was recently in the news for some award regarding his invaluable efforts working with the FBI to catch a serial killer who was kidnapping children and having them kill their families. Some kind of cult. He takes another drink from his glass and glances at the screen while Will stands and leaves.  
"Until we meet again, Will Graham." 

The cold embraces Will like am old friend. Too eager, familiar. He waits for the heat to kick in again before leaving the lights of the city behind. The hum of the engine and the gentle twang of guitar and sadness try to drown out his thoughts of Hannibal. Will swallows softly, thinking of Hannibal’s firm hands, the structure of his cheekbones and jaw. Eyes and teeth sharp almost predatory. But a sort of quiet sadness. He thinks of Hannibal’s voice warm and deep like smooth whiskey. Like cellos. Like warm flannel sheets. Will smiles to himself. Tonight was made for warm flannel sheets, and dogs, and fire places. His mind wanders only for a moment… in idle curiosity…. to Hannibal’s rough hands. He shakes away the thought and struggles a yawn. Will seldom thinks of work while driving. Not since he nearly wrapped his car around the large ash tree in his yard. His heart twinges at the memory. One day he'll have to have this anxiety looked into. 


End file.
